Quotes About Music

What's the earth With all its art, verse, music, worth — Compared with love, found, gained, and kept?

Many men are melancholy by hearing music, but it is a pleasing melancholy that it causeth; and therefore to such as are discontent, in woe, fear, sorrow, or dejected, it is a most present remedy.

Minden mese és dallam varázslatból születik

And so we begin the game that cannot be won," Thom said, sliding the knife back into its sheath. "Courage to strengthen," Noal whispered, stepping forward, holding up a lantern with a flickering flame. "Fire to blind. Music to dazzle. Iron to bind." "And Matrim Cauthon," Mat added. "To bloody even the odds." He stepped through the doorway. Light

Courage to strengthen, fire to blind, music to dazzle, iron to bind.

The whole day of Bel Tine would be taken up with singing and dancing and feasting, with time out for footraces, and contests in almost everything. Prizes would be given not only in archery, but for the best with the sling, and the quarterstaff. There would be contests at solving riddles and puzzles, at the rope tug, and lifting and tossing weights, prizes for the best singer, the best dancer and the best fiddle player, for the quickest to shear a sheep, even the best at bowls, and at darts.

Mat sacudió con asombro la cabeza. «¿Cuánta gente hay en los tejados esta noche?» Sólo faltaba que se presentara Thom y se pusiera a tocar el arpa, o alguien preguntando las señas de una posada.

Courage to strengthen," Noal whispered, stepping forward, holding up a lantern with a flickering flame. "Fire to blind. Music to dazzle. Iron to bind." "And Matrim Cauthon," Mat added. "To bloody even the odds." He stepped through the doorway.

A city without choras would seem bleak as wilderness.

Courage to strengthen, fire to blind, music to dazzle, iron to bind.' Mat, why do we say that? There is no fire, no music and no iron.

she listened to Thom play his harp, singing love songs like "The First Rose of Summer" and "The Wind That Shakes the Willow," and funny songs like "Only One Boot" and "The Old Gray Goose." His

So when the last and dreadful hour This crumbling pageant shall devour, The trumpet shall be heard on high, The dead shall live, the living die, And Music shall untune the sky. —John Dryden

For the next 16 hours, fueled by coffee and amphetamines, I wrestled with John Lennon's scrawls and codes and symbols. As I transcribed his words, I said them out loud like an incantation, and I began to feel Lennon's energy flowing through me.

I never liked Queen. I can honestly say I hated Queen and everything that they did.

I love dancing. I haven't danced since I was sixteen—but I love it. The music seems to run through my veins like quicksilver and I forget everything–everything except the delight of keeping time to it. There isn't any floor beneath me, or walls about me, or roof over me—I'm floating amid the stars.

The woods call to us with a hundred voices, but the sea has one only — a mighty voice that drowns our souls in its majestic music. The woods are human, but the sea is of the company of the archangels.

She looks just as music sounds, I think,' answered Anne.

Before this war is over,' [Walter] said - or something said through his lips - 'every man and woman and child in Canada will feel it - you, Mary, will feel it - feel it to your heart's core. You will weep tears of blood over it. The Piper has come - and he will pipe until every corner of the world has heard his awful and irresistible music. It will be years before the dance of death is over - years, Mary. And in those years millions of hearts will break.

One can always find something lovely to look at or listen to,' said Anne.

The Piper is coming nearer, he said, he is nearer than he was that evening I saw him before. His long, shadowy cloak is blowing around him. He pipes - he pipes - and we must follow - Jem and Carl and Jerry and I - round and round the world. Listen - listen - can't you hear his wild music?

The tinkles of sleigh bells among the snowy hills came like elfin chimes through the frosty air, but their music was not sweeter than the song in Anne's heart and on her lips.

Yet still the Piper piped and the dance of death went on.

One dim wet evening in early spring, when a shabby old world was trying to wash the winter grime from its face before it must welcome April, there was wild music among the birches

He began to speak dreamily, partly because he wanted to thrill his companions a little, partly because something apart from him seemed to be speaking through his lips. The Piper is coming nearer, he said, he is nearer than he was that evening I saw him before. His long, shadowy cloak is blowing around him. He pipes—he pipes—and we must follow—Jem and Carl and Jerry and I—round and